Getting Rid Of The Numbness
by The Walking Stranger
Summary: REUPLOADED. A chance meeting leaves two broken people in love and a warpath to victory, determined to make the rest of the world suffer as they suffered. The road is perilous, but that's what makes the gamble. Akitsu X OC


**A/N: due to demand and desire, I am re-uploading and rewriting this story. 'Tis a Christmas present from me to all of you. However, if you read the original of this tale, I am forewarning you this: Nearly everything will change.**

**XXXXXX A POSSIBLE FUTURE XXXXXX**

The sky was completely covered by dark, menacing storm clouds. The air was chilly and a light snowfall was beginning to cover the streets. Sitting in his icy throne on a random rooftop was one of the four competitors left in the entire Sekirei Plan; the Ashikabi of War, Overlord Kessler, who was wearing an overcoat made of the finest lion skin and fur over his white tailcoat suit. His emotionless, hollow face seemed to be looking at something that was at least a million miles away, and his wife's veneer was no different as she sat in his lap. Unlike him, Akitsu didn't need to protect herself from the frigid environment she had created, so she was dressed in a simple white kimono.

The two of them seemed to marvel at their handywork; a frozen hell. A permanent and unforgiving winter.

"Is this what you wanted?" said a voice next to Kessler. He looked over and saw someone he thought was long dead. "To be feared by all your victims? To be a nemesis to Minato, someone who saw you as a person he could trust? Somebody he thought was his friend..." Uzume looked at him with sorrow. "I hope you're finally happy, Jack."

"You have no right to call me that, you bloody..."He couldn't think of a word vulgar and offensive enough to call her.

Akitsu's attention was instantly brought back to her location with her husband's statement. She looked at him to find him looking at nothing. She knew right then that he had been hallucinating again.

"That damned..." He growled, unable still to think of a suitable insult towards the woman he couldn't help but hate.

**XXXXXX PRESENT DAY XXXXXX**

Jack A. Kessler was walking along one of the many streets of the capital. The night was young, clear, and just the right temperature. He donned a crisp black pinstripe suit with a coat that had tails that were narrow and so long they almost dragged along the ground. He had a smile on his face, his cane in between his side and arm, and a huge roll of cash filing through his gloved fingers. He took in a deep breath of the fresh post-twilight air, and felt something smash into him. He let out a sound that was a combination of a shout and a groan. Whatever had hit him sent him flat on his back, and it didn't move. As he lied there on the ground with something almost as big as he was, but not very heavy, on top of him, he suddenly felt colder for some reason. He opened his eyes and looked at the hand he had been holding his money in and saw his two million yen being blown away by the wind.

"Oh give me a break." He then looked forward and saw that what had run into him was a person in a white coat. They had their face buried in his chest and their auburn hair almost touched his face. This irritated him vastly; he really didn't like being touched by people who didn't have his permission to do so.

"Are you blind?!" he demanded with a slight snarl. "Watch where you're goin'!"

"I am so sorry Sir." That statement revealed to him that the battering ram on top of him was a woman. She lifted her head to look at him, and Kessler lost his breath.

"You... are beyond beautiful." He said with a struggle, and he meant it. She had sad grey eyes and auburn hair that was shorter than his. Her skin was pale and flawless. Kessler then felt a strange sensation of being chilled by a winter's breeze.

"I think you are the one who is blind Sir." Her voice was emotionless and monotonous. "I am useless."

"Useless?" Kessler parroted with confusion. The woman then dropped her head back onto his body. He felt an almost eerie warm sensation on his leg. He moved one of his hands down to where it was and ran his fingers along it. He brought it back up to look at and saw that his hand was completely coated in blood. "Oh God..."

**XXXXXX**

Akitsu slowly opened her eyes. The first bit of information she assessed was that she was now indoors. She was also lying down on something soft and warm. She lifted herself up into a sitting position. She looked around. She was inside a luxurious room. It was classical and decadent. It had a golden tone to it. She looked over and saw that there was a balcony, and standing on it looking out into the city was the man she was sure she had literally run into last night. He was still wearing the suit, and she recognized his hair; the color of freshly spilled blood and far too long. He looked like he belonged in an American band in the 1980s.

"You, my dear, are very interesting," he said. He walked back into the room from outside. In his hands was a large half-empty bottle of liquor. "I must say, in all I've seen, done, and seen, I've never encountered a woman who was bleeding to death not to have any wounds when I try to help them."

"Help?" Akitsu said. She sounded bored when in fact she was mystified. Why would he ever want to help something like her.

"Yes, help," he said. He was now standing over her at the side of the bed. She got a closer look at him. He looked like he had been to Hell and back several times over. "Something a person tends to do when they run into a fellow living being who's apparently bleeding to death. But before you ask, I removed your garbs solely for the purpose of tending to your wounds."

Akitsu looked down at herself. She was naked, but covered by the silk comforter of the bed. She noticed that there was none of her dried blood on her either. He had gone out of his way to do so much for her. She looked back up at him.

"I'm not a pervert, let me assure you," he said.

She lifted herself up so that the two of them were eye level. "Even if you were, I wouldn't have turned you away."

He tilted his head to the side in curiosity. "I'm holding you to that." He placed his hands of her shoulders and brought their faces together.

**XXXXXX**

Kessler had left her sleeping in his suite. She had been dozing off when he had slipped out and went to spend the early hours gambling, which wasn't a problem if he lost, seeing as he was the heir to a financial empire that held a monopoly. After somehow managing to gain money rather than lose it, he took of to the bars, strip-clubs, and distilleries to kill a few brain cells. Now it was getting close to sunset and he was headed back. As he stumbled back towards the hotel's entrance, Kessler's thoughts drifted to that sad, submissive woman he made it with last night. She had gotten her V card punched by him. That was evident thanks to the blood on his room's bed and the level of her tightness. He thought back to their time together. She did whatever he wanted and asked no questions, no even when he had asked her to moan as loud as she could**.**

Thinking back to that strange but nonetheless enjoyable evening, Kessler's lips curled into a tired smile. He then drunkenly broke out into song as he continued to struggle to walk to his private room.

"You get nuthin' for nuthin', if thats whatcha do. Turn around bitch, I got a use for you. Besides, you ain't got nuthin' better to do, and I'm bored. It's so easy, easy; when everybody's tryin' to please me, baby." He slurred in his primary language as he made his way down the hall and opened the door. No sooner had he stepped into the room did he bend over and puke blood on the rayon carpet. He could feel the warm liquid drip from his lips. This didn't bother him at all. Twelve years of abusing everything that could get inside his body had made him learn to not give a single damn about what came out of him.

He let out a groan and placed a hand on his head, which felt like it was about to explode. He looked over to the bed and almost fainted at what he saw. There on top of the covers was the woman from last night, still completely naked and looking at him with her detached veneer. He had figured she would have left by now, but he was too buzzed to give a damn.

"Nice to see you... still here," he said in a strained voice. He walked over to the bed and she pushed herself to the side, giving him enough room to lie down on, which is exactly what he did.

"I can say the same to you, Master Kessler." She responded in her bored tone.

"How do you know my name? I mean... my last name?" Normally this type of leak of information would have surprised him, but he was borderline poisoned by the alcohol coursing through him.

"The lobby transferred a call from your family. Your grandfather wanted to know if you were still alive. I told him that you were when I last saw you."

"Okay. But I guarantee that he wanted to know who you were. So what did you tell him?"

"Technically, I talked to a translator he had on hand. But yes, that question was asked of me, and I answered by saying that I was your lover."

"That didn't surprise him," Kessler said knowingly. He had a new sexual partner about every three days. He sat up and looked at her. She too turned her head and they locked eyes. His violet irises gazed into her gray ones. They reminded him of storm clouds. "Tell me; why are you still here?"

"Because I want to stay with you, now and forever." She answered without emotion, but she meant every word of it from the very bottom of her heart.

Kessler simply stared at her. He couldn't believe that. No woman wanted to be around him after the glow of evening previous wore off. That was the time they got to meet the real him; an alcoholic, depressed child stuck in a grown-up body. Biologically he was twenty-four, but physically he felt like an ancient and worn out old man. He tried to grasp his situation, but that was next to impossible when a naked woman with a dream of a body was sitting right next to him.

"For God's sake, will you please cover yourself?" He said. Took off his suit jacket and handed it to her. She did as she was asked. Kessler then took out the bottle of Jack Daniels of the nightstand on his side and took a long hard swig. After the drink he looked at the bottle full of the liquid he now understood was warm. He then threw the bottle, making it shatter on the wall.

"Fucking room temperature booze," he grumbled. Suddenly he felt a shooting sensation on his shoulders. He looked over and saw that the woman had moved herself over to him and was now rubbing and massaging him. He had to admit it felt good. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and allowed his body to unwind. "So tell me, you know my name, so what's yours?"

"Akitsu," she dead panned. "They named he Akitsu."

"'They'?" Kessler repeated. He shrugged it off. He had heard weirder things in his travels. "Akitsu, there's a bottle of Jäggermeister in the left inner pocket of the jacket you're wearing..."

She understood without him concluding the sentence. She had been wondering what the chilling sensation on her stomach had been since he had handed her the jacket. She took out the bottle and handed it to him. He took another long drink of his alcohol.

"Master, why are you so persistent with your consumption of alcohol?" Akitsu asked in her monotone.

"First off, please stop with the 'Master' stuff," he said looking at his half-empty bottle. "And I need it because it numbs me. Blocks the pain. Represses the memories."

"Then we have something massive in common." Akitsu stopped rubbing his shoulders, moved forward, and draped her arms around his shoulder while pressing her massive chest into his side. "We both hate our pasts."

"Why do you want to forget yours?" Kessler asked looking over into her eyes again.

"This... tattoo of mine..." She gestured to her forehead. "It isn't on me by my own free will or choice."

"Oh..." Kessler looked forward into nothing. He didn't want to imagine what else had happened to her. His thoughts, not by his accord, drifted to his father sodimizing him with a wooden broom handle. He took another hard drink to block the memory out before it progressed to the painful parts.

"What about you?" Akitsu asked nonchalantly. "What happened to you?"

"My father..." He struggled to continue. "My father... when I was very young, decided to go on a crusade of personal entertainment."

"What did he do?" Akitsu whispered. She knew that he was feeling the same she had felt all her life. Nothing but pain and fear. So she correctly guessed that he was longing for what she always had; for someone to listen to their pain, and genuinely try to ease it.

"He..." Kessler's horrendous and nightmarish memories flashed before his eyes. He tried as hard as he could to shake them off, and he forced himself to continue. "He began to experiment. To see what he could break first; my body..." He brought up the bottle and stared at it. "... Or my spirit."

"That sounds like what they tried to do to me." Akitsu said. She was feeling something. This was a rarity. She hadn't felt much of anything ever since the Symbol manifested on her forehead. But right now she had a warm feeling towards this man. They had spent the night together, and in the morning he had given her the choice to leave, unlike all the others who had thrown her out like garbage without a second glance or thought. And when he had returned, he didn't do the same.

"But..." She continued. "Unlike you, I actually did get broken."

"Perhaps." Kessler answered. He looked at her and continued, "or perhaps not. You don't seem to have any disabilities or dysfunctions. At least not to me."

This made Akitsu's heart melt. She was now positive that, if she could, she would be Reacting to him. She had found her Fated One. Through all the pain, rejection, and suffering. She had finally found a beacon of happiness.

"Do you remember... what I said earlier?" she asked still without emotion.

"About staying?" He said. "Now and forever?"

She slowly nodded once.

"Well... I ain't going to argue with it," he said with a tired smile. How could he? Here he had found a woman who, for a wonder, actually had something in common with him. That was why the few serious relationships he had had didn't last long. The women didn't understand. They didn't understand his suffering, his pain, his sorrow. They didn't understand him.

But Akitsu. She had been through a hell not much different than his. She could feel what he did. What he still does.

Akitsu wasn't sure how long sleep had claimed her, but she was awoken by a sudden unease. Her eyes slowly opened and she saw her newfound provider-of-purpose staring at something; whatever it was, it was illuminating the wall and him. He was sitting upright but slightly hunched forward, his legs crossed and in front of him. In his hands was a black controller of some sort. She turned her head see what had Kessler's attention and saw that it was a television he had apperently placed at the very end of the bed, and on its screen was what appeared to be an animated program of sorts. The screen gave the feeling of looking through a peephole, and looking right back at her was a man with shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, smirking at her. The man remained silent for sometime, and then he turned to his left and walked out of sight. The screen then changed to a door with several chains and locks on it with a small message written in a language she couldn't read. Then without warning, she heard an extremely faint click and a menu appeared on the screen. She heard her lover sigh and turned her attention back to him. he was now leaning back and his legs were unfolded.

"Sorry if I woke you," he said, looking at her.

"Not at all," Akitsu answered in her usual voice. "What were you watching?"

A small tired smile cross his lips. "Not watching, my dear. Playing. It's a video game i took part in playing in my youth, and i felt an urge to do so again." He looked back at the screen and a deeply filled with thought expression overtook his smile. "But i cannot seem to recall what that damned freak is up to..."

His eyes narrowed.

"Y'know... this game..." Kessler said with misty eyes. "It reminds me of my youth."

"How so?" Akitsu's voices made it hidden that she actually did want to know.

"My father..." He looked as if he was revisiting a long since repressed memory. "Always kept me... He always locked me in a small dark room whenever I was in his way, or even just there... It was either be locked under those stairs... or get a new scar..."

Akitsu looked at his exposed arm (he had removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves) and understood. Deeply carved into his skin were several tally marks. It must have been obvious to Kessler that she was looking.

"He liked to keep score..." Deciding he would rather not scare off his newest source of company and carnal stimulation, he made haste to change the subject, but did a rather poor job. "So what about you? What was your childhood like?"


End file.
